Regeneration
by HermioneGranger888
Summary: The Ninth Doctor has regenerated, and Rose doesn't trust the new Doctor. She decides to leave, but on their way back, the Doctor and Rose are thrown together in an unforgettable adventure, where the Doctor will meet his darkest enemy yet . . . an enemy only Rose can conquer. Alternate version of the Tenth Doctor. Told from Rose's POV.


**Author's Note: Okay, so I wrote this after watching the Ninth Doctor regenerate. I love Ten, but I wanted to write my own tenth regeneration of the Doctor. Takes place after The Parting of the Ways, but takes a completely different turn from season 2. Rory and Amy might end up in this at one point, I haven't completely plotted it out yet.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. I do love it, though. :)**

Chapter One

The Doctor is . . . different.

I hunch against the wall of the TARDIS, barely breathing. He has his back turned to me, and everything is wrong. He doesn't stand the way the Doctor I know does. His familiar leather jacket is too small. His hair isn't cut close to the head anymore, and it's not brown—it's long, and blond, and cascades in a small waterfall to his shoulders.

My heart pounds in my chest. I want to say something, but the words stick in the back of my throat.

"My God," says the Doctor. I suck in a breath, because even his voice is different. Deeper, but quieter.

He spins around, and my eyes meet his. Instead of the familiar hazel-brown I am used to, I am staring into two blue irises. I examine his face. It's sharper, more angular, and definitely younger. He's handsome, I'll give you that, but that doesn't mean I trust him.

"My God," he repeats. "That is so _painful._"

I stare at him.

"And who're you?" the Doctor asks. Tears press behind my eyes. He has to remember me. Remembering me will prove something—that he's the Doctor, in a different body. That I can trust him. That nothing between us has changed.

"Ah," he says, and grins. "You're Rose."

I could hug him. But I don't, of course. Instead, I stand up, take a shaky breath, and say, "And who the hell are you?"

"The Doctor." He says it like he's talking to a stupid person. The Doctor I know would never talk like that, and it sends a pang through my heart.

"But . . . but . . ." I falter. "You're not the same."

"I'm not, am I?" The Doctor frowns. "Did I not explain that to you? I must have been quite rude." The frown fades, becomes a jovial, schoolboy smile. "Terribly sorry, Rose."

"You weren't rude," I say before he can add anything else. "You were . . . fantastic."

It's his word, not mine, and tears spring to my eyes. Where, oh where, has my Doctor gone?

"I'm just as bloody fantastic now, thank you very much," the Doctor says in a hurt voice. I scowl at him. He looks away airily, nose in the air, and continues, "I regenerated. See, Time Lords, they can't die. Or well, we can. In a way. We adopt a body, a personality, a spirit, and when that body dies, it is replaced with a new one." He squints at me. "Does that make sense?"

"Not really," I say, and my voice is choked. "Are you trying to say that the Doctor is gone and now . . . there's a new Doctor?"

He nods.

"But you're still the Doctor?"

He nods.

"In a different form?"

He nods. Then he pauses, and shakes his head. "Not just a different body, Rose. Oh, much more than that. I'm a whole new man."

I repeat my question. "But you're still the Doctor?"

"Yes."

I close my lips against the thousands of questions building in my throat. He's still the Doctor. But is he my Doctor?

No. Not anymore.

He sticks his hand out. "Nice to meet you, Rose Tyler. Again."

I reach out and take it. His fingers are warm, comforting, smooth. I pull away too quickly to be polite. The Doctor smiles, but I see the flash of hurt in his eyes.

"Where to?" he asks. "I've no idea, personally, but if there's anywhere you'd like to go. . . I mean, it's simply useless just sitting here, don't you think? Of course, we could, but I'd rather take the TARDIS for a spin. It's awfully boring, and besides, staying here long enough could tear a hole in the space-time continuum, and that would be—"

"Doctor," I say, my voice thick. "I know where I want to go."

"And where is that?" He bounces on the balls of his feet. This Doctor, I've noticed, never seems to stop moving. His fingers run through his hair, fiddle at the edge of his frayed jacket, tap against his legs. "Ooh, I think I know. The Serephenic Galaxy, now that's beautiful—"

"Home," I say suddenly. "I want to go home."

And for one second, the new Doctor stops moving. He stops, and again some sort of hurt crosses his ice-blue eyes. "Are you sure?" he asks. "I may be different, but I'm not _that_ different_. _Well, technically. I mean, I've got this whole personality. Hell, _I'm _not even sure who I am yet!" He pauses. "Am I normally this talkative?"

"No," I say, pushing my hair behind my ears and trying to keep my voice steady. "Doctor, I want to go home. And stay there."

The words tear a small hole in the heart, one I'm not sure will ever be repaired. I belong with the Doctor, don't I? I can't go back to that life, my old life, with Mum and Mickey, the shop and my boring job, cell phones and school and everything else. Not after seeing everything I have—the end of the world, the mannequins come to life, even the Doctor's regeneration.

But somehow, I have to. I can't stay with the Doctor. Because I don't trust him. I want to—oh, I want to—but he's not the Doctor I know. He's an impostor, wearing the Doctor's clothes. And I can't stay with him, not without yearning for the old Doctor. Not without mistrusting him.

"All right," he replies. "Whatever you want, Rose."

The way he says my name makes my heart ache, but I think I'm making a good decision. I'd known all along, after all. I'd known that I would have to leave him at some point. As long as I want to be a Time Lady, or whatever a female Time Lord is, I can't be. In the end, I'm just Rose Tyler. A human.

The Doctor starts to move toward the TARDIS's controls. He stops halfway, and I see the way the jacket strains at his arms, much too tight. "Never mind," he says. "I'll be right back."

I stay against the wall of the TARDIS as he bounds away, humming under his breath. He seems perfectly fine, happy even, although I can barely stand up and behind my eyes, tears threaten to spill. Everything has changed so quickly, it makes me dizzy.

A moment later the Doctor leaps back into view, wearing something I could never imagine the last Doctor in. His hair is scraped back into a sloppy, low ponytail, and he's donning blue Converse with white laces and a pair of faded grey jeans that hug his skin. Above that, he's got on a button-up white shirt with a red tie, and an overcoat thrown over that, a short one, the kind you see in fancy suits. It should look stupid, but, instead, he looks incredibly, infuriatingly attractive.

I look away sharply. My situation is bad enough without my old crush on the Doctor surfacing again. And besides, the crush is on the old Doctor, not on this one. I have nothing to do with this one.

"Home," says the Doctor simply. "Where is it, again? You'll have to excuse me, lovely Rose—my brain is still fuzzy."

_Lovely. _He called me lovely. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's flirting. In any case, he's in a much better mood. It's like he doesn't even care that I'm leaving.

"London," I say stiffly. "2012 London."

"Splendid, splendid." He nods, playing with the TARDIS's controls. "I'm sorry you have to leave so soon, Rose," he says quietly, serious again.

"I have to see my mum," I say lightly. "Been away for long enough, don't you think?"

He doesn't say anything, and I look at his face_. _You never knew what the old Doctor was thinking, but this one? You can read his face like an open book. In a flash, I know what he's thinking.

_It wasn't long enough._

Oh, God, it hasn't been. I want to travel the universe with the Doctor forever and ever, not give up only a couple months in. But the Doctor isn't the Doctor anymore, not the one I know, and I don't think I can do it. As much as I want to, I can't.

The _whoop_ing noise of the TARDIS begins, ringing in my ears, and I relax at its normalcy. This, at least, hasn't changed.

The sound stops, and I know we've arrived. I ignore the pangs shooting across my heart, sling my knapsack over my shoulders.

"Well, goodbye, then," I say awkwardly.

"Oh, I might as well come in!" he says, so brightly it's almost painful. "Meet your mum. Er, again. I don't want to be _rude. _Don't want to just, you know, drop you off, without bidding, you know, goodbye . . ." The Doctor's cheeks flush red for some reason. "If that's all right. . . I mean, I know you've got your knickers in a twist, wanting to leave, but . . ."

"That's all right," I say in a voice that sounds odd to my own ears. "I don't mind. But make it quick. If you could. I just . . . I'm just done."

And with that, I turn and walk out of the TARDIS. It's a gray, foggy day—nothing out of the usual. London is normal, which makes me feel better. There's sirens in the distance, cars honking and people talking, and I'm _home._

I smile for the first time since the Doctor regenerated. Across the street lies my apartment. And behind it's doors, my mum. Mickey. Life before the Doctor and the TARDIS.

But I don't want to think about that. Instead, I take off in a sprint, knapsack bouncing against my shoulders. I reach our apartment and knock on the door, four times quickly.

No response. Not even a faint, hurried "coming!" I look at my watch. It's six in the evening, nearing seven. Knowing Mum, she'll be watching TV, drinking a glass of wine, eating a microwave dinner.

I knock again, louder. "Mum!" I shout, pressing my lips against the wooden door. I hear footsteps, behind me. The Doctor. My stomach tightens into a knot. Because his footsteps are suddenly the only sound. The sirens that were there a second ago? Gone. The noise and bustle of the city? Silent.

"Doctor," I breathe. He's already noticed, I see it in his face. His eyes narrow, mouth pursed in a frown. One finger moves toward his lips.

Once I am quiet, there is no sound. None at all. I shiver; the air seems to have dropped a couple of degrees, and my breath mists in the air.

"Mum!" I scream it this time, a strangled, desperate sound. I pound my fists against the door, but there's no answer. All is silent.

The Doctor bounces from left foot to right foot. "Now, isn't this odd?" he asks me, like we're at a tea party. "Like . . . everything just skidded to a stop. Unexpected, wasn't it?"

"Where's my mum?" I spit at him. "Is she in there? Why's it all gone quiet?"

He doesn't respond. Tilts his face toward the sky, fingers his blond ponytail.

"Doctor!" I scream, and when he looks at me, my heart skips a beat. There is fear, true fear, in his eyes.

"What's happened, Doctor?"

"Something I've never seen before," he muses. "Never."

"And I'm supposing that isn't a good thing?" I cross my arms over my chest and stare at him, demanding answers.

"Oh, Rose, you are such a party pooper," he says, eyes glittering. "Of course it's a good thing! New perspective! New horizons!"

I glare.

"Yes, your mum may be stuck in there," he mutters. He brushes me aside, ignores my indignant snort, and promptly kicks down the door.

"Showoff," I scoff as I move inside. The words are a cover, a feeble shell that hides the terror that's curling in my stomach.

"Mum?" I say, and my voice shakes uncontrollably. So much for hiding the fear. "Mum?"

She's exactly where I expected her to be. On the sofa, glass of wine tipped to meet her lips, the TV throwing soft light onto her face.

There's only one problem.

She's frozen. Everything is frozen. The TV is stuck on a man's face paused in a comical expression, microphone at his mouth. The purple wine about to meet my mum's mouth has stopped sliding downward and stays where it is. My mum is halfway through blinking, her lids drawn half-down like she's falling asleep.

I whirl on the Doctor.

"What," I scream, "in the hell is wrong with you? I don't know about you, but the old Doctor wouldn't call this new horizons! He'd call this bloody rubbish, and he'd fix her!"

The Doctor winks at me, and I fight the urge to slam my fist into his face. He pulls the sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket, presses it to the side of my mum's head. My hands curl into fists as the familiar blue light flickers, the buzzing sound rings in my ears.

And nothing happens.

He tries again, face scrunching with frustration. And again, nothing happens. My mum stays where she is. The TV doesn't move. It stays silent, and cold as an icebox.

"Fix her!" I shout again. "Oh, God, why can't you fix her? What's happened, anyway?"

"Time," he says wondrously, "is frozen." He turns in a slow circle, face alight with wonder. I wait.

"And . . .?" I prompt. "Can you fix it?"

"I wish," he says wistfully. "But, Lord, would that take power. An incredible amount of power."

"That you have?" I say hopefully.

"While I am shockingly handsome, it is a tragedy that I do not have that power. Although, my looks may have enough power in themselves," he says, like he's truly considering it.

"Oh, shut up," I snap, fighting tears. He's awfully arrogant, this one. It's odd, how he switches from one mood to the next. Like he hasn't quite figured out who he is yet.

"All right, all right," he says, putting hands in the air in surrender and jerking me from my thoughts. "But you know you agree." Another wink.

Is he flirting? Again?

I flick my gaze to my mum. It's awfully, horribly silent, so silent my ears hurt. Somehow, the quiet is louder than anything I've ever heard.

"I'm sorry, Rose," says the Doctor quietly. "I didn't mean—"

"It's all right," I say, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. "Just please. Please, tell me there's a way you can fix this."

He smiles, blue eyes lighting up. "Follow me, Rose."

The next thing I know, we're in the TARDIS. The Doctor is pacing, his face drawn in a frown. "I've no idea what could freeze time," he says, "and even less of an idea why it would be here. I mean, honestly, am I always drawn to the worst possible situations in all history? First Satellite 5, then the Empty Children, then Bad Wolf, and now . . ."

"Doctor," I say. "Focus."

"All right," he says, raising his eyebrows. "So, assuming that this is here simply because we're here—okay, so not here for the exact reason that we're here, just, you know, a coincidence—"

"Would you please stop it?" My skin is crawling. Something is so, so wrong with this entire situation, with us being the only moving things on the planet in this very moment. How can he make jokes and prattle on like this?

He clears his throat. "Rose—"

"God, would you just get on with it? Stop talking, for God's sake, and say something!"

"You realize that didn't make any sense whatsoever," he says, grinning.

"Oh, for crying out loud, you know what I meant—"

"Anyway," he says quickly, "like I said, there's an enormous amount of power involved in freezing time. So much that someone—something—would have had to freeze it for a reason. And if I could just figure out what that reason was . . ."

"Why are we still moving?" I say steadily. "Why aren't we frozen, like my mum? Like everything else?"

"Oh, the TARDIS prevents those sorts of things," he says absentmindedly. "Lord knows it's rubbed off on me, protected me from those sorts of things, and I suppose it's done the same for you. You must've escaped just _barely. _Lucky woman, Rose Tyler."

"What's causing it?"

"That's what we've got to find out," he says, smiling. "Whoever or whatever's using up all their power doing this, they aren't going to let themselves be frozen as well. So we look for someone moving."

"Wait," I say. "Is the whole world frozen, or just London? Just England? Just Europe?"

"The whole world," the Doctor says. "Time itself is frozen, Rose, not just people and their activities. Time, which makes everything in the entire universe, has stopped. Every planet, every life-form, every alternate universe, everything, has just . . . paused." The jokes have stopped; there is no light in his eyes. "Do you understand how much power, how much energy, that would take? Do you know how much _evil _that would take?"

"Why is it so bad? Why is that evil?" I whisper.

"Time is never meant to be stopped. It's meant to roll on, forever and ever, neverending. When it does, things will go wrong once it's reawakened again. Every person who's been frozen will awaken and feel . . . different. And that difference, so matter how small, can change their actions." The Doctor runs a hand through his hair. "And those actions . . . they change the world. The universe."

"What if it changes in a good way?" I say hopefully.

"It won't. Things are meant to be a certain way, and whatever has stopped time has screwed it up. The difference in everyone frozen, time itself having been stopped, is _wrong. _It's evil."

"Can you stop it? I mean, not stop it," I say hastily, thinking of his reply the last time I asked this question. "Can you find what caused it, and can you stop that, Doctor?"

"I don't know, Rose," the Doctor says, not meeting my eyes. "I don't know."


End file.
